Realistic Dark Academia Stem Aesthetics

complicated relationships with your parents are like. you cut up fruit and bring it to my room without me asking. i can't remember the last time you told me that you were proud of me. you told me i wasn't good enough for you but i'm not even good enough for myself. your hugs feel like coming home. i can't tell you anything that happens in my life. i doubt myself every day because of something you said to me when i was eight. would you like to hear about my day? please don't ask me about my day. i miss you even though you're in the next room. i wish we didn't live together. i've never loved or resented anyone as much as i've loved and resented you. are you okay? are we okay? are we ever going to be okay?

bein able to reblog posts of deleted tumblr accounts is absolutely the best feature here

its feels like dragging a corpse around through a bacchanal along with its legacy

Hélène Cixous, from Hélène Cixous, Rootprints

Text ID: Fever, which is unbearable, is a defensive phenomenon. It is a combat. It is the same for suffering: in suffering there is a whole manœuvre of the unconscious, of the soul, of the body, that makes us come to bear the unbearable.

Friday nights & Clandestines

The world is small when it is limited to your own room

And the thick smoke of his endless cigarettes

And cobwebs on the framed pictures of the lovers time buried/

The furniture is dusty with ashes of my past, but he doesn't mind that

He's okay with the fact

that we'll never last and the passion will wilt away like his cigarettes/

2 A.M. and Loving in adagio

Flesh meshing with mine and our heartbeats synchronised

We dont have to speak to communicate

As every caress is open to interpret

We are in separate wonderlands/

The night is unfurling and I wonder if our obscenity woke up the sun but

I cannot think clear because I am inebriated on the cadence of his voice and my head is on his chest

And I listen to him like I listen to that damned song/

Carefully/ intently/ on repeat

From start to finish.

The soundtrack is coming to an end

And so is his last cigarette

I will lay on his side of the bed and watch him leave

But the smoke will stay

And I won't open any windows

I'd let me suffocate/

I'm a writer before I'm a mistress

Hence I'll write love confessions with the remains of our night

And my fingers in the ashtray

Oh how I envied your cigarettes as they

Kiss your mouth more than I do/

But it's okay, you suck the life out of both of us.

i blog for girls who are plagued by loneliness despite being overall well liked

I need a lot of affection and some rough sex

the mood swings have been insane lately. one okay productive day costs me two weeks of grief and apathy and anger. hot girls get it 

Physics moodboard

Ye imma make moodboards for all my classes

“I want to rest. I want to breathe quietly again.”

— Tennessee Williams

"A flaw in humanity, the compulsion to be unique, which is at war with the desire to belong to a single unidentifiable sameness."

- Olivie Blake , the atlas six